Image of the Week: Fawn Hill Bridge, Summer & Autumn
© D. Yael Bernhard
This quick little study in gouache shows a view of Slide Mountain, the highest peak in the Catskills, from a spot along the Woodland Valley creek, about a fifteen minute drive from my home. The bridge is the beginning of Fawn Hill Road, a tiny dead end road that crosses the stream and winds up into steep forest. It's hard to find a clear view of distinctive landscape features such as these from a spot where it's actually possible – and safe – to sit and paint. Plus, I had two children with me – homeschoolers who've been taking art lessons with me for the past five months. We were fortunate to find a grassy nook well off the side of the road where we could sit and work.
All summer my two young students and I searched for outdoor locations to draw and paint. We went down to the creek and drew the rocks – then drew on the rocks with conté crayons. We hiked up to the Phoenicia Overlook that gave us a bird's eye view of the town, and drew the little buildings nestled among the trees far below. We drew flowering bushes and tall lakeside oaks. We drew vegetables in the kids' family garden, and mushrooms in a nearby park. These kids are a pleasure, with exceptionally long attention spans and parents who truly value their creative work.
Landscape painting isn't easy for anyone, much less for beginning painters aged 7 and 11. We drew small thumbnail sketches first in order to test out different ways of dividing up the space, followed by larger pencil drawings, and then switched to color. I mixed the paints, making the task just a bit simpler – but we agreed first on what colors to squeeze out of the tubes, and in what proportions. I always draw and paint along with the kids, and talk to them as we work about the many choices and options open to artists. Should we face upstream or downstream when drawing a stream? (Hint: upstream is easier – can you guess why?) Should we draw the leaves or the branches first when drawing a tree? Should we include the background of a vegetable plant, or isolate our subject from its tangled background?
Inevitably these questions lead to branching possibilities in my own mind, resulting in further explorations. Last week, while driving to the kids' house for our weekly lesson, I passed Fawn Hill Road again, and was struck by how different the view looked in autumn color. I love doing more than one version of the same subject – but it was too cold and too late to work outside, so I settled for a quick cellphone photo.
The next day I found this beautiful polypore mushroom – an "artist's conk" (Ganoderma applanatum), so named for its suede-like undersurface which takes paint so beautifully. These conks are bracket fungi, and they're quite hard and strong. It was the perfect surface for a small painting – realistically, all I had time for. Shoving aside other work, household chores and the numerous other images in my head patiently waiting to be created, I brought the autumn version of the Fawn Hill bridge scene to the top of the heap, and set to work.
That pale streak on the top of Slide Mountain is snow! Already the higher peaks have a modest snowpack.
And in the foreground, I added tree trunks with two autumn mushrooms I found – orange "mock oysters" and an artist's conk.
These little landscapes may not be masterpieces, but I got a lot of satisfaction out of them. I would like, someday, to do a large oil painting of the scene. Each time I tackle a subject like this, the chaos of rocks and trees and brushy weeds settle a little more into some kind of order. When I was my students' age, the wild disorder of nature brought me to tears in my attempts to draw. Something told me to keep trying. I hope these kids do too.
A good week to all!